The Cross in the Closet

by Kurek, Timothy

  Happy New Year.

  Happy New Year to you.

  I take a minute and walk outside to smoke a cigarette. I need to be alone. I need to be alone because the biggest limitation of my journey just made itself evident. I think back to my brother’s toast: “To Tim, straight once more!” and to the laughs and cheers I received. Everybody will automatically accept me back. I am straight Tim, and my orientation is no longer a social stigma. None of my other friends will be so lucky. No one else is afforded this luxury. My experiment lasted a year; their revelations relegate them to a much different fate. We aren’t a country of equals.

  I wonder where I would be right now if I hadn’t gone through with my year. What would I be doing? What would I believe? Who would I be? I’ll never know, and I am glad to never know. This year has been the most transformative of my young life.

  I take a few moments to celebrate the passing of the old year into the new, but the excitement is quickly replaced by a solemn realization. Before I can truly celebrate, I have to come out again, and this time I have far more to lose.

  The Beginning

  I like to think of my few days back out of the closet with the image of a space shuttle getting ready to re-enter orbit after a prolonged stint in space. The long mission was successful, and the shuttle is returning back to the place where it can be repaired and cleaned up, where the astronauts can rest. But that metaphor works best because re-entering the atmosphere is the most dangerous leg of the mission, after taking off. I will be re-entering through people, via the lie I have told them or allowed them to believe. I only hope they will understand.

  January first is a different monster, this time around. Much like last year, I go first to a café on West End to meet up with Josh. I think of this time last year, when I was being driven to Josh’s house as an emotional basket case. It was a first step into an alien world. I go to the café knowing I might even see a few people who I’ll have to break the news to. It is a daunting thought, but I have to resist the urge to cower from it. The Bible says the truth shall set us free, and while I have been set free from who I was, I have to make that final descent in order to come to terms with the means by which I entered this experiment.

  I have received positive responses during the first two days after coming out straight. Angela, my retired transgender runway-model friend, told me that she felt I had done God’s work; and in light of her being a mystic who does not believe in any particular god, her desire to speak in language that is important to me meant a lot. Several other friends from the bar were shocked but adjusted quickly, and after sharing my background with them a little bit more, they were happy that I did what I did. My LGBT friends in Memphis—especially Beth, who is still mostly in the closet—were so encouraged and overjoyed about my revelation that they could barely contain their excitement. When I asked them why they were so positive after I had lied to them, they told me that it was a beautiful thing to know an ally who actually attempted to understand. It was a humbling series of conversations. Samantha Hasty, Mel’s assistant, was also more than accepting. Not only did she accept me, we have become even closer. “Now I know why you flirt with me!” She said with a laugh. I know she will be a life-long friend.

  Steve, a friend from the bar whom I hung out with on Wednesday afternoons and in the coffee shop most days, was shocked. As I told him, I braced for my first real taste of anger from someone I never wanted to hurt.

  “So are you going to be writing about me and about our conversations, or any of the times I tried to flirt with you?” he asked me.

  “Steve, anything we talked about is between you and me. I am not writing an exposé, I promise.” My response seemed to satisfy his concern, and after an hour on the phone, he made it clear that he still very much wants to be friends.

  I would like to write about every conversation and moment I shared with people in the weeks after my re-entry, but that would be another book’s worth of chapters. Needless to say, I learned a lot from my friends after the fact, too. And it was all worth it, in the end—every moment of discomfort and every moment of humility.

  Not one of my gay friends rejected me for lying to them. The more skeptical of them just asked me questions, but by the end of those conversations they were content with everything they had heard. Some bought me drinks, and some made me buy them drinks. Some asked me if I would ever consider “switching teams” for a night, to give “it” a try (If you’ve read the preceding chapters, it probably won’t be too hard to figure out who); and to them, well, I politely declined the offer. And in the end, there are only three people I have had a hard time finding the courage to tell. They are the three people whom I am the most worried will be hurt by my news. Until I talk to them, I still feel like I am in the closet.

  Telling them is the only thing left to do before I start the next chapter of my life. But for some reason, I can’t bring myself to tell Will or Phil…and I am especially afraid to tell Ben. These three guys, in addition to Shawn, have been my mainstay friends from the gayborhood. And all three of them have been seriously taken advantage of and wounded in the name of Christ. Hell, I was one of the Christians who hurt Will before all of this, harassing him after he came out. What would I do if I told these three friends, and they didn’t want to be my friend anymore? How can I live with myself knowing that I might be just one more person who caused them harm? I simply cannot move forward with my life until they know.

  ~~~

  The mirror in the bathroom at my dad’s house reflects the image of a young man, well dressed for the night but as nervous as I have ever seen him. It has been a little over twelve months since I felt this nervous, and I still don’t know how to cope with it. I guess all that is left to do is leave. My car’s engine roars to life as I turn the key in the ignition, and before I can second-guess my decision I am already on the road to Tribe. The Pharisee sits in the passenger seat, eyeing me with curiosity.

  I pull into the parking lot behind Tribe, shaking. I know everyone is inside. Except for two slow afternoons, this is the first time I have been here in a month. I have missed this place, missed the ambience and the crowd. It really did become a home while I adopted the label of gay. I walk to the smaller bar in the second room to order a beer from Will, who runs over and hugs me as soon as he sees me.

  “How are you doing? It’s been a while!” he says.

  “I’m doing well. Trying to decide if I want to move in the next few months.”

  “Oh, my god! I’m so jealous! Let me get you that beer and we’ll talk about it,” he says, retreating to the taps where he fills a pint glass with my usual.

  He places the beer in front of me, and I take a sip, nervously deciding how I am going to tell him. I’m so nervous, in fact, that my sip drains most of the glass.

  “Whoa, there! You okay?” Will asks with a smile.

  “Will, we need to talk about something.” I take a deep breath.

  “Are you okay?” he asks again.

  “I’m okay.” I try to compose myself. “You know how I was before I came out, how dogmatically I tried to get in touch with you when you came out?”

  “Yeah.”

  “A few months after that, I felt convicted by how I acted toward you, and because of a situation I had with another friend who came out. I realized I needed to question what I have believed all my life. So I tried to figure out what would be the most effective way to understand what it was like to come out, and how the label of gay would impact my life... I’m not gay, Will. I came out to my friends, family—everyone—so that I could try to understand. I came here tonight to say I’m so sorry that I deceived you in the process.”

  “You’re not really gay?” he says. I can tell he’s processing what I’ve just told him.

  “No. I’m not,” I answer. Will makes a mixed drink for another guy at the bar, and I take deep breaths. “I was a bigot. I needed to change. I don’t know why I decided to do what I’ve done, but it felt like the only way…”


  “So you came out as gay, so you could understand how it changes your family life and social life and faith?” His tone is even, and calm.

  I don’t know if he is upset or angry, or okay with what I did. I feel a pang in my heart and a sense of sadness come over me. I look down at my hands before speaking. I can’t look him in the eye.

  “Will, I am so incredibly sorry for lying to you this whole year. I feel horrible.”

  “Why? Why would you feel horrible?” He waits for me to look up so I see him smiling. I feel a small measure of relief. “Did it change you? I mean, honestly change you?”

  “Yes, it did. I never understood who I was condemning before…or why it was I was condemning them. I am a different person now. A better person, I think.”

  “Then why are you sorry? Why would you apologize for taking the steps necessary to question and overcome your prejudice?” he asks.

  “Because I love you and don’t want to lose you as a friend!”

  “Give me more credit than that. Did you really think I wouldn’t accept you because you aren’t really gay?”

  “Will, I lied to you.”

  “We are all liars here. Most of us spent years in the closet, saying we were straight to everyone we loved. How is your lie any different?” Will smiles and fills another pint glass with beer. “This one is on the house. You have just made my night, so your beer is on me.”

  “Thank you.” I’m still nervous and shaking, but Will puts his hand on mine and speaks softly.

  “Tim, what you’ve done means a lot to me—and it will mean a lot to a lot of people. Be confident of that. I love you, too.”

  “I hope so.”

  “I’m surprised I didn’t see through it, though. I thought my straight-dar was better than that!” We laugh and I take a few more deep breaths.

  “I’ve got to tell Phil and Ben, still. Know where they are?”

  “They’re outside, smoking and talking as usual,” he says.

  “Thank you, Will. Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I grab my beer and walk towards the other room.

  “You have balls of steel, my friend…” he says, flipping a dish towel over his shoulder as I walk to the next room.

  I walk outside, and Phil is where I was told he would be. “Tim!” he shouts. “The prodigal son has returned!”

  “How are you?”

  “I’m great! Ben is in the bathroom,” he adds, seeing me looking around.

  “Phil, I need to talk to you, and I need to do it now before I lose my nerve or am able to talk myself out of it.”

  “Okay, honey. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, technically…I’m just afraid you’ll be angry at me.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m not really gay.” I let my words sink in for a minute before telling him everything I told Will. His face registers shock, and he takes a deep breath as he listens. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m so sorry for lying to you, and that I hope you will still be my friend.”

  “Tim…I don’t know what to say. Of course I’m still your friend, but give me a second to wrap my head around what you just told me.” He takes a few deep drags from his cigarette and gulps from his drink. Finally he says, “I’m not mad at you. I’m overwhelmed by what you just said.”

  “I know it’s a lot to take in.”

  “Yes, it is, but Tim, thank you!” A grin spreads widely across his face and he laughs. “You just proved to me that what I have always thought about you is true! To think, you cared so much that you’d make such a mess of your life, just to understand…I can’t imagine.” He puts his drink down, ashes his cigarette, and then walks around the small patio table to me and wraps his arms around me. “I love you, Tim, and I’m not angry. Thank you for telling me, and for doing what you did. I couldn’t be mad at you. Other people will be angry at you, to be sure, but I know you, and I know your heart is so big.”

  “You know, you, Will, and Ben are the only three I hadn’t told yet, because I was so afraid you’d be angry. I was so scared you would feel betrayed.”

  “You were worried about losing me? Wow…That means a lot.”

  Hugging Phil feels like hugging a family member. I feel tears in my eyes and try to compose myself, but it’s difficult.

  “I need to tell Ben, and then we’ll all catch up!” I say.

  “He’s at the bar. See?” He points through the glass window. “Good luck!”

  I begin that short but fated walk to Ben as though I’m just a few short steps to complete freedom. The Pharisee looks over, putting his hand on my shoulder, and scowls. His nasty expression reminds me why I want to be rid of him, why I want to live the rest of my life without his voice lending itself as something more than what it is, the voice of a cruel and critical part of me.

  I arrived here believing my fears would be justified, but so far they haven’t been. The three people I was the most afraid of are here, and two of them have shown me grace. Ben is all that is left between me and the end of this part of the journey.

  That’s it. Go ahead. You can do it.

  What do you want from me?

  How does it feel to know that you haven’t had to face any retribution for lying to these people? Ease the conscience any?

  I know the time will come. I know I’ll face judgment for this.

  And you will deserve it. But worse than any you’re going to face is God’s judgment.

  Why do you take so much joy from condemning people for their actions? Why can’t you just love people?

  By telling you the truth, I am showing you love.

  I always used to say that, but I was blind. Now you can leave me alone.

  I set the glass down on a table and walk towards the bar. Ben’s back is to me. He seems to be in conversation with the bartender. I look over and see Will watching anxiously from the other room.

  “Ben,” I say, putting my hand on his shoulder. He turns around and smiles.

  “Hello, there!” he says. “I was just telling a friend about you the other day!”

  “That’s sweet, if it was good stuff!” I laugh nervously.

  “Of course it was all good. So how are you?”

  “Well. We really need to talk.”

  “Sure, babe, the floor is yours,” Ben says, grabbing his glass. He takes a sip from the tiny straw and waits for me to talk.

  “Ben, I need to apologize to you and tell you about who I really am.”

  “That sounds interesting. What’s going on?”

  “You are the last person to find this out, but not because I care about you the least. I’ve been terrified of telling you because I respect you and love you, and haven’t wanted to lose your friendship.”

  “Honey, you don’t have to worry about me—”

  There is a real possibility that he will be wrong.

  “I’m not really gay.” I slap my hand over my mouth like I did after telling Andrew and Maren that I was gay. After a few seconds I lower it. Ben stands with a blank expression on his face and waits. A few seconds pass and I force myself to speak. “I was raised a religious bigot, and I knew that something was desperately wrong with me. I came out as gay to everyone in my life so I could try to understand the pain and stigma that is attached to the label, and for the past year I’ve been living in the closet as straight.”

  Ben says nothing. His face betrays no emotion. As the seconds pass, I feel my heart begin to race.

  “I spent twelve months immersing myself in the community, questioning everything the church taught me, so I could see for myself, and to the greatest extent I could, understand how the label makes life difficult for anyone who lives with it. I am so, so sorry for lying to you. I am so afraid of hurting you or angering you. I don’t want you to hate me.”

  I feel so much fear, and so much apprehension, so much guilt. Why doesn’t he say anything?

  Everything inside me is twisting and knotting as I wait for him to give me some sign that he is either angry or upset.

  S
ilence.

  He puts his glass down on the bar and breathes. I fear the worst.

  Ben begins to cry.

  Tears roll down his cheeks like shiny beads, and his lips quiver. He breathes heavily, but still says nothing. And then, as if in a dream, Ben lightly touches my lips with his hand and begins to pray:

  “Lord, be with your servant, Tim. Inspire the words that come out of his mouth as he shares the reality of this news with the masses, and as he shares your love and your grace with the masses.”

  He slides his hand to my eyes.

  “Lord, protect his eyes and what he sees. Help him not to see any hatred, but only love, as he sets out on this journey of grace.”

  His hand once again moves, to my ears.

  “Lord, block his ears from hearing the hateful words directed at him from people in the religious community and from this one. Protect his ears from the words of hate that they’ll inevitably speak.”

  His hand moves to my heart.

  “Lord, thank you for this heart! Thank you for the sacrifices he has made. Lord, bless this beautiful heart with every power you possess. Help him never to change, Lord, to be jaded, to be hurt. I love you, Lord, and Tim loves you. Thank you for letting us love each other. Amen.”

  Ben pulls me into a hug…not just a hug, but an embrace. He holds me so tightly I can feel his heartbeat through his chest. I feel the wetness of his tears on my shoulder as they soak through my shirt. I feel his breathing and the shivers rocking through his body. He pulls away for a moment and looks into my eyes, which have filled with tears, too.

  “Timothy, I have never in my life felt so loved by a straight Christian. You have just given me the ultimate gift. You are going to be a force of love and grace for this community, for to any community you become a part of.” He pulls me back into a hug.